


Pick the Seams Out

by wordslinging



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Relationship, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinging/pseuds/wordslinging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir is not used to having so many choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick the Seams Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Spartacus fic I ever started writing, and started partly as my own attempt to fill in the gaps in the development of Agron and Nasir's relationship in Vengeance, and partly an exercise in finding the character's voices and writing narration and dialogue in the style of the show.
> 
> ...And then I got distracted by other things, kind of lost the thread of this story, and recently had to admit to myself that a) I hadn't done any substantial work on it in months and b) I've actually taken bits of phrasing from here and reused them in other WIPs that I'm more invested in actually finishing. So...I think it's dead. But still, there's some writing here I quite like and didn't just want to let it languish in my WIP folder forever, so I decided to just post it as is. Which means it's unfinished and there are patches of not!fic in it, but for the most part it's actual fic! 
> 
> Note: contains non-explicit references to past sexual abuse.

Nasir stands on the steps of the temple, watching as Spartacus and the others fade into the night. He wishes them all well, but his eyes linger on one form more than any other, and it is not that of the Thracian.

He can still feel the light touch of Agron's lips against his, and the German's hand warm against his skin.

The kiss had not been a surprise--Agron had not been subtle about the nature of his interest. But it was a relief to learn that interest had not cooled. Nasir still believes it was right to tell Crixus the truth, despite all that followed, but he had been sorry to find himself at odds with Agron because of it.

In his old life, Nasir gained position by submitting to the will of others, seeking to please and make himself useful. In adapting to his new life, he has had to learn quickly when to let himself be guided by others and when to form his own judgments and stand his ground. Agron would have had him keep silent, and at first Nasir had done as he wished, both because Agron was right about the dangers of the the mines and because Nasir had wished for the German to keep favoring him with smiles and gentle touches. But he could not make peace with their deception, and when the truth brought Spartacus' censure down on Agron, Nasir had feared whatever was growing between them would be snuffed out as the price of his honesty. 

And then he had felt Agron's touch and seen his face dimly through a haze of pain in the forest, and when he woke with bandaged wound and the strength to stand, the warmth of Agron's smile had given reassurance even before he had touched Nasir's cheek and kissed him. 

Nasir feels fingers brush his arm and turns to see Naevia standing there. "Come," she says gently. "I would see you heed Spartacus' wish and rest."

For a moment, Nasir bristles--is he to be sent to his bed now, like a fucking child?--but the anger passes quickly. Naevia and Spartacus only look to see him healed as soon as possible.

He follows Naevia back to the room where he woke, but does not lie down. Naevia turns to their small store of medical supplies, hands sorting and counting, taking stock, and Nasir draws up a stool and sits beside her. Naevia gives him a sidelong glance, her brows arched slightly, and Nasir looks back at her with steady calm. This much, he can do without troubling his wound. A moment passes between them, and then, still silent, Naevia hands him a loose bundle of cloth, which he begins to wind into a neat ball.

It's needed work, to ensure they stand ready when--if--the others return. It also serves to keep hands busy and give some small measure of distraction as they wait.

At length, Nasir breaks the silence, doubting that any words of his can bring comfort yet wishing to try. "I did not have opportunity to know Crixus well, before the mines," he says softly, "yet I believe his love for you would drive him to fight on even if he stood in the depths of the underworld."

Naevia's hands still, and Nasir thinks perhaps he should not have spoken, but then the faintest shadow of a smile passes across her face. "Of that, I have no doubt," she replies. "But Crixus is not a god, as those who once cheered him in the arena thought. He is but a man, mortal and vulnerable as all are."

Nasir drops his gaze to the cloth in his hands. _As is Agron._

"If the gods were kind, they would show favor to such a love as you and he share," he says, more to himself than Naevia. "I have never known its like."

Naevia's laugh is the most bitter thing Nasir has ever heard. "The gods are not kind," she says harshly.

Nasir bows his head. "I know," he replies simply.

A few moments pass, and Naevia's voice holds far more gentleness when she speaks again. "You say you have never known love such as ours--perhaps not in the past. Agron's concern for you has been plain to see. As was the farewell he took."

Nasir smiles, feeling blood rise to his face. He does not bother to demur, as he did with Chadara only a few days ago. There seems little point now.

"We have not yet had time for much," he replies. "If Agron returns safely..."

He looks up to find Naevia's eyes on him, her expression kind. "I know Agron perhaps even less well than you know Crixus," she tells him. "I never exchanged words with him in the ludus. Yet if he stood with Crixus and Spartacus when they brought the house of Batiatus down, I believe him a man to be reckoned with."

"He is such," Nasir says with a faint smile, but he is not at ease. "I yet wish I could have gone with them, though I know I would likely have been more burden than aid."

"And I wish I could fight for Crixus, as he has fought for me," Naevia says. She lays a hand on Nasir's arm, the touch gentle in contrast to the fierceness in her voice. "If they return, we shall have them make warriors of us."

"And if they do not?" Nasir asks.

"Then we shall find some way to make warriors of ourselves." Naevia's smile is joyless--no, Nasir corrects himself. There is joy there, but of a more savage kind than he has ever seen. It's the smile of a woman who would laugh as she drank the blood of her enemies. "And make Rome pay for their lives as dearly as we are able."

***

When all the work Naevia will allow him to help with is done, Nasir rests, but does not sleep. He lies on his undamaged side, staring into the darkness, and thinks of Agron. Each time he turns thought to the kiss, his pulse quickens. That alone might be enough to prevent sleep, but it is not merely pleasant memory that keeps him wakeful.

Brief and chaste as the kiss had been, it had held much. Relief at seeing Nasir again on his feet, a farewell, and an offer of more--if Nasir desired it, and Agron returned alive. 

Regarding Agron's safe return, Nasir can do nothing but hope. As to the rest...Nasir knows his own desire, and does not doubt Agron's. He believes the choice to pursue desire or not rests with him; perhaps it is yet soon to place so much trust in the German, but Agron's green eyes and easy smile seem to hold no dark secrets, no hidden danger. Yet having such a choice laid in his hands is a thing both new and strange, and he must take time to sound it out. 

He has never before had the freedom to take a lover of his own choosing. At most, he had the security of knowing he need not submit to any who would seek to lay hands on him without the approval of his dominus (any who did so with approval were, of course, another matter). Even the slight freedom others in his villa had, to take pleasure amongst themselves where they could find it, had been taken from him once he'd been raised to the position of body slave. And so another part of Nasir had died and left only Tiberius.

Or so he had thought. And then Agron and Spartacus had found Nasir hiding inside Tiberius and drawn him out. And to be Nasir again after so long is frightening and even painful, but it is a welcome, healing pain, like the pangs in his side as his body sets about repairing itself.

He is free to be with Agron if he chooses, yet the choice is not absent fear. They have shared but a single kiss, and now Agron is gone to the arena and Nasir may never see him again. 

It will always be like this. Even if Agron returns safely from the arena, there will be another errand to undertake for their cause, another encounter with Roman soldiers. And though Nasir fully intends to fight at Agron's side again once he is healed, they may not always be able to stay together. There will always be partings, always the fear that there may never be a reunion, until Rome falls or they do.

Yet perhaps the choice is simple, after all. Nasir sees two courses of action: he can deny desire and seek only friendship with Agron, in the hope that doing so will ease his fear and the grief he will suffer should Agron fall. Or he can accept fear, embrace desire, and draw all the joy he can from every moment they have together, even if taking that course means grief, when it comes, is more keenly felt.

Tiberius would have made the more cautious choice, and that alone makes Nasir's path clear.

***

Their second kiss is longer, and more passionate. Nasir lifts his hands to Agron's face just as Agron's hands frame his, and rather than merely let Agron bend to him Nasir tilts his head up to meet him halfway, still smiling as their lips meet. The kiss begins gentle and close-mouthed as the first had been, but Agron presses forward, intent and seeking more, and Nasir gives it willingly.

One of Agron's hands lingers on Nasir's cheek; the other trails over his throat and down his chest until it settles on Nasir's waist, opposite the wound, and grips tight. Nasir's arms go around Agron's neck and cling just as fiercely, and they are lost in each other for a few precious moments, until Donar's voice intrudes.

"Agron!" he calls. "Our friends would hear more of our victory, if you can free tongue from the boy's mouth long enough to help me tell it."

Without so much as a pause in kissing, Agron lets go of Nasir's waist and extends his arm, no doubt to make some obscene gesture. Nasir laughs against his mouth and grabs his wrist.

"I would hear more as well," he says. "Did you truly burn the arena down?"

Agron takes Nasir's chin in hand and grins at him. "To rubble and fucking ashes," he replies, punctuating the statement with another kiss. "Come."

Leaving Donar to tell the story to the others, he slings an arm around Nasir's shoulders and leads him over to an unoccupied space on the temple steps. There's a flurry of activity all around them--Nasir sees Naevia and Crixus locked in each other's arms and smiles, sees others rushing in and out of the temple and for a moment feels guilty that he is not moving to make himself useful somewhere. But the others seem to have the situation in hand, and Agron's eyes and smile are a powerful draw.

They sit close together, leaning against each other, and Agron tells him all that transpired in Capua. Nasir can hardly imagine the sight of the arena burning, and he finds himself even more surprised and grateful that Agron returned unscathed. When he says as much, Agron reaches up and turns Nasir's face toward his, leaning down to press his forehead to Nasir's.

"It would have taken more than the arena to keep me from returning to your side," he says in a low voice.

A gentle smile tugs at the corner's of Nasir's mouth, and he lifts a hand to curl fingers around Agron's wrist. "And how long would you stay at my side, now that you have returned to it?" he asks.

"Until Spartacus calls me from it," Agron replies. "And then hasten back again as soon as I am able."

It's the closest they've come to giving voice to their feelings, to naming this thing that has sprung up between them so quickly and already seems so strong. Agron does not seem the sort of man to whom gentle speech comes easily. Even now, he speaks as a soldier, his words a reminder that though they are free they have pledged themselves to follow their leader's command. But Agron's tone is gentle and sincere, and the promise in his words flies straight to Nasir's heart as surely as any sweet declaration of love could.

"I would have it so," he whispers.

Agron kisses his brow gently before drawing back, and Nasir shifts to lay his head on Agron's shoulder, settling against him comfortably. 

He glances toward the group that has gathered around Donar, and Chadara catches his eye. She sits apart from the others, and Nasir recognizes the look on her face and cares not for it. It's the look she used to wear whenever she was in fear of their dominus' displeasure.

"I would speak with Chadara," he says, easing away from Agron's side.

Agron nods, his fingers trailing across Nasir's back as though reluctant to let him go. Nasir smiles over his shoulder as he stands, then moves to Chadara's side, touching her arm gently.

"I am sorry Rhaskos did not return," he says softly.

Chadara looks down, her brow furrowed. "I had begun to grow fond of him despite myself," she confesses. "Now I have lost whatever place I had gained."

Nasir presses his lips together, reaching down to take hold of her hand. "I do not believe you need worry so," he says softly. "We are free now, among other free men and women. Is that not enough?"

Chadara lifts her chin, a hard look in her eyes. "You speak as a man, one who can embrace freedom easily. I have seen something of how free women fare, if they lack means or protection."

"Chadara..." Nasir trails off, looking at her in concern.

She shakes her head, looking at him with a thin, brittle smile. "Do not worry for me, Nasir." She looks over his shoulder, nodding toward Agron. "You have found your gladiator. I yet hope I may be as fortunate."

***

As the day lengthens, excitement dies down and thoughts turn to all that must be attended to, beginning tomorrow. They have been in a state of limbo, waiting for Spartacus' return or news of his defeat. Now that it seems they will be able to stay here for a time, there is much to be done to make the temple fit to dwell in.

At Mira's insistence, Nasir goes to their makeshift infirmary to have his wound examined; with that done and his bandage secured once more, he emerges to find the others taking evening meal, and Agron waiting with a bowl in either hand. Nasir smiles as he takes one, and again they find a quiet place to sit.

They sit close together, arms and thighs touching, and linger long after they have finished eating, as the sun goes down and lamps and torches are lit. Nasir sees glances and smiles turned their way now and then--the other gladiators seem greatly amused by the sight of Agron so taken, and the other slaves from Nasir's villa no doubt find it curious to see him so. His thoughts turn to the many small rooms within the temple where they might be alone, but he feels no urge to move just yet. This is something else he never had in his old life: freedom to sit and talk with someone, at leisure and for the sheer joy it brings. He has not forgotten the heat in their earlier kisses, but there is more than one sort of desire he would see satisfied.

"The wounded man you brought back," Nasir says, glancing up at Agron's face. "I've heard the others speaking of him--he was the one who trained you as gladiators?"

Agron nods. "Oenomaus. Though in the ludus, we knew him only as Doctore." With a grin, he adds, "And a host of less respectful names out of hearing. There were countless times I longed to seize his whip and throttle him with it, yet without him our little rebellion might well have been stillborn. None of us would be the men we are without his training, not even Spartacus." 

"Yet you were a fighter before your enslavement, were you not?" Nasir asks.

Agron's smile takes on a fierce edge. "I was, but not half the warrior I imagined myself to be when Duro and I left home. I thought I would sweep the Romans from my path like the heroes of legend, and then I took an arrow in the chest and woke to find myself and my brother in the belly of a fucking slave ship."

Nasir lifts a hand to the scar on Agron's chest. "So that is how you gained this," he says softly. The wound seems old enough to be absent pain, yet Agron's breath catches, and Nasir pulls his hand back with a murmured, "Apologies."

Before he can withdraw his hand completely, Agron catches it in his own. "You mistake my reaction," he says, and pulls Nasir's hand back to his chest. "Your touch is welcome, as are any questions you would ask me."

Nasir smiles, flattening his palm against Agron's skin. The invitation for more questions is received gladly. He _knows_ Agron, in a way that longer acquaintance in different circumstances might well be unable to match, but there is much he yet does not know about him.

He lays his head on Agron's shoulder, and feels a strong arm curl around his back. "Tell me more of Duro?"

Agron is silent for a moment, turning his head to rest his cheek against Nasir's hair. "He was younger than I," he begins. "It was ever my lot to protect him, and his to seek to prove he did not need protection."

Nasir sits comfortably in the circle of Agron's arm and listens to him speak of a beloved brother, a part of his life Nasir will never know, save what Agron tells him. He attends every word, but part of his mind wanders to his own faintly-remembered brother, who he has given more thought to since meeting Agron than he had for years before.

In a different world, absent Rome's tyranny, perhaps they would both now be living in peace in their homelands, brothers at their sides. But in such a world, with all the miles that lay between Germania and Syria, they would likely never know one another.

They sit together and talk in low voices until footsteps approach, and Nasir looks up to see Spartacus watching them. Perhaps it is imagining, but Nasir thinks he sees approval in their leader's face.

"Agron." Spartacus addresses him softly, but with a note of urgency in his voice. "I would have words with you and a few others concerning what is to be done next."

Agron nods at once, but does not move to stand so quickly. He pulls Nasir tighter against his side for a moment, pressing a kiss to his temple. Nasir leans into him, turning his head to speak close to Agron's ear.

"When you are again at leisure, I would be alone with you," he whispers.

He is not certain what he wants beyond that, how far he is yet willing--or able, given his wound--to take things between them. But he knows he wants this much, wants Agron's hands and arms and mouth and no curious gaze upon them.

Agron's expression when he pulls back steals Nasir's breath, bright joy with low, steady heat like a banked fire behind it. "I shall find you," he promises.

He stands to join Spartacus, who looks back at Nasir and then claps Agron on the back. "Find Mira and Lucius. I shall be with you shortly."

Agron's brow furrows and he looks from Spartacus to Nasir with curiosity, but nods and takes his leave. Spartacus turns back to Nasir, who stands.

"You seem in good spirits," Spartacus says to him. "How fares your wound?"

Nasir puts a hand to his bandaged middle. "It heals well," he replies. "Soon I shall be able to take up sword again."

It's both an offer and a plea-- _Let me fight alongside you and Agron, the next time there is swordwork to be done. Do not leave me behind again._

Spartacus looks at Nasir as he had when Nasir offered to go to the arena, fondly but with no condescension. He steps closer, laying a hand on Nasir's shoulder. "I would be glad to see such a thing, but not before your recovery is complete."

Nasir bows his head, nodding. He expects Spartacus to take leave of him with that, but the hand on his shoulder remains.

"Agron is an honorable man," Spartacus tells him, and now his approval is clear. "And fierce in protecting those he cares for."

Nasir tilts his chin up so that he may meet the Thracian's eyes with his own. "I am glad to know you hold him in such regard," he replies. "And I would seek to be strong enough to protect those I care for, as well."

Spartacus nods, seeming pleased with Nasir's response. "When you are well enough to resume training, I will aid in pursuit of that goal."

***

Nasir takes a lamp and a blanket from their supplies, and manages to find a small room within the temple that yet seems unclaimed. As he spreads the blanket on the floor, the best they can do for a bed, there is nervous tension in his limbs that will not be ignored. He is not afraid to be alone with Agron--he longs for it as he has rarely allowed himself to long for anything--but of the memories that might intrude unbidden.

He stills himself, kneeling there on the stone floor, and closes his eyes, drawing in deep, steady breaths. _I am free,_ he thinks, words he has spoken in his mind over and over until he could begin to believe them. _I am a free man, and this is my choice._ All that came before is only shadow and memory now, and he would not have it keep him from Agron.

He stays like that until he hears footsteps in the corridor, and opens his eyes just as Agron comes to the doorway and glances in, smiling when he sees Nasir.

Nasir stands as Agron comes into the room, stepping forth to meet him. Agron frames Nasir's face in both hands and bends for a kiss, and already this feels familiar and right, as if they had both been made for it.

Nasir lifts hands to Agron's bare shoulders, trailing across his skin. Agron leans forward, deepening the kiss, and Nasir parts his lips at the touch of Agron's tongue. It only lasts a few moments before Agron draws back, thumbs stroking Nasir's skin lightly as he looks down at him.

"What would you have of me this night?"

It's a question Nasir has never been asked, not once. He pauses, letting the weight of that settle over him, and with it the knowledge that he holds the power here. Which also means he must at last decide what it is he wants.

He begins with something easy. "I would have your arms around me," he says, and Agron obliges at once. His arms slide around Nasir and pull him close, and Nasir splays his hands on Agron's chest and tilts his head back to keep looking at him.

"And what else?" Agron asks.

"I would have you kiss me," Nasir tells him.

Agron kisses his mouth, and then presses light, quick kisses to his brow, his cheeks and eyelids, even his nose, drawing a laugh from Nasir before his lips are claimed again.

Agron draws back just enough to speak, and Nasir can feel his smile as he does. "And what else?"

Nasir hesitates. "What would _you_ have of _me_?" he asks. He longs to please Agron, in a way fundamentally different than how he has ever wanted to please any other.

Agron looks down at him, his smile fading into a solemn look. "I desire nothing more strongly than for you to be at ease with me," he says, and then rests his hand gently on Nasir's bandaged side, just over his wound. "And for you not to strain yourself as you heal."

Nasir looks into his eyes for a moment and smiles at the sincerity and concern there. He takes a step back, reaching down to take hold of Agron's hand.

"Lie down with me?" he asks.

Agron removes his cloak and belt, and sits near the edge of the blanket to remove his sandals. Already bare to the waist, Nasir sits beside him and reaches to undo the leather tie that holds his hair back.

He starts to pull it free, but pauses when he feels Agron's hand there instead. Fingers work gently through Nasir's hair until it falls loose about his face, and Agron runs both hands through it, leaning forward to bury his face in the dark strands. A shiver runs through Nasir, and when Agron tugs his hair to the side and presses a kiss to the back of his neck, Nasir's breath catches in his throat.

He twists around, raising a hand to Agron's cheek, and their mouths come together. Agron keeps one hand buried in Nasir's hair and skims the other down his side, cradling Nasir against him. For all the strength and roughness in his hands, he touches Nasir so gently, so carefully.

They lie back, settling onto the blanket together and lying chest-to-chest, arms draped loosely around each other. Agron leans in and kisses Nasir slowly and thoroughly, coaxing his mouth open. Nasir responds in kind, slipping his tongue into Agron's mouth. They share one deep, heady kiss after another, and Nasir is overwhelmed by the way it makes him feel, the heat that sweeps through his entire body merely from the touch of Agron's lips and tongue. He has to break the kiss and catch his breath, lowering his head to tuck his face against Agron's neck. 

Agron kisses the top of his head, stroking his hair with one hand. His other rests gently against Nasir's side, ever mindful of the wound. They lie quietly for a time, simply breathing together, and then Agron speaks.

"I go to Neapolis tomorrow," he says quietly, and Nasir pulls back to look at him. "To seek information on what slave ships are soon to dock there."

"You leave again so soon?" Nasir asks.

Agron lifts a hand to his cheek, stroking it gently. "Only on a scouting mission. The risk will be slight." 

"Then perhaps I could go with you," Nasir says hopefully. "I could be of aid."

"I do not doubt it," Agron says with a smile, and goes on softly but urgently. "But I would not see you undertake such a journey while yet recovering, and you may be of greater aid here, helping Spartacus set the others to purpose." 

Nasir looks away, unable to argue with Agron's words, though he wishes to. Agron's lips brush feather-light across his brow, and he lays his hand over the wound, too gently to cause pain.

"Do not think I do not wish to have you at my side," he whispers. "I would but see the day you may stand there again hastened."

Nasir nods, laying his own hand over Agron's. He tilts his head up to find Agron's mouth waiting, and guides Agron's hand down to his hip, where it can grip without causing him pain.

No more words pass between them that night, only touch. They kiss with barely a pause, deep, searching kisses one moment followed by dozens of small, light ones the next. Agron's hands frame Nasir's face and tangle in his hair and trail over his arms and shoulders, and Nasir returns the touch in kind and thinks of all the other places he will have Agron's hands and all the places his own will explore when the time comes. 

When weariness starts to overtake them both, Nasir nestles close, his head on Agron's chest and an arm thrown over Agron's waist, and Agron wraps his arms firmly around Nasir's shoulders, holding him close. Nasir takes another moment to let it sink in--that he is a free man, drifting off to sleep in his lover's arms--and then closes his eyes.

***

It was inevitable, Nasir thinks, that in joining Spartacus' cause he would suffer loss eventually.

He did not expect the first loss to be Chadara, or the hand that took her to be Mira's.

Nasir stays kneeling at Chadara's side until two others, both from their villa, come to carry her away. As he stands, he hears some of the gladiators muttering darkly over the bitch who meant to betray them, and stares blankly at where her blood still soaks into the ground.

Hands take hold of his shoulders from behind and he knows who they belong to, lets himself sag back against Agron's chest. Spartacus and Mira stand nearby, watching him with concern.

"I am sorry you grieve," Agron murmurs to him.

Not sorry that Chadara is dead, only that Nasir grieves for her. Had she not been dear to him, Nasir knows Agron would be one of those with only hard words for her now. He does not--cannot--defend her actions. Yet--

"She was as a sister to me," he whispers. His voice shakes, and Agron tightens his hands with a low, wounded noise, as if seeing Nasir so distressed causes him physical pain.

Mira touches Nasir's arm lightly, hesitantly, and Nasir senses a plea for forgiveness in it. He does not doubt her word that she meant only to wound Chadara, but he still cannot look her in the face just yet. He covers her fingers with his own instead, and lets that serve as answer.

He feels Spartacus' hand come to rest on his bowed head for a moment, and then he and Mira draw away and Agron presses Nasir's shoulders gently.

"Come," he whispers.

Nasir lets Agron lead him away, walking as if in a daze until they find themselves in the small room they have claimed for themselves. Agron moves to stand before him, touching his cheek.

"Nasir?" he asks, seeming concerned by Nasir's silence, and Nasir struggles to find voice.

"If I had thought she would attempt such a thing, I would have spoken with her further," he says. "I would have sought to convince her that she need not worry over position, that she could make her own place among us--"

Agron shakes his head. "Do not place blame with yourself," he says. "She had such assurance from others, and would not believe it."

_But no one else knew her as I did,_ Nasir thinks. If any of them could have reached her, surely it would have been him, and he should have tried harder.

Underneath the stillness that has fallen over him, there is a torrent of emotion he knows not how to give vent to. He wants to beat at Agron's chest with his fists, wants to fall into his arms and weep like a child, wants to kiss him until they both stand breathless and have Agron leave bruises in the shape of his fingers on Nasir's hips.

Agron touches his chin, pressing until Nasir's eyes meet his as he speaks, more haltingly than Nasir has ever heard him. "My tongue was not made to form gentle words with ease, be they of comfort or of love. But I would hold you, and let arms give comfort words cannot."

Nasir closes his eyes and nods, moving forward blindly until he collides with Agron and feels strong arms around him. He presses himself to Agron, breathes in the scent of his skin and wraps his own arms about Agron's waist.

Agron steers him toward their bed, guides him to lie down and then pulls Nasir close once more, holding tight. One of his hands settles in Nasir's hair, stroking the dark locks. Nasir lays his head on Agron's chest, feeling it rise and fall with his breath, hearing his heartbeat.

His oldest friend lies dead. Agron is warm and vital against him.

_If I lose you..._ Nasir thinks, and does not let himself dwell on the thought.

***

[This is where I lost the thread of the story, which is why there's a gap here. If I had actually written stuff to go here it would probably have involved Nasir starting to train again. Then before Agron leaves to liberate the ship in Neapolis there's some more making out, possibly some groping but they don't go farther than that yet, and then this part.]

The cloak Nasir takes up is not his own, but Agron's. It hangs too long on him and carries Agron's scent, and as soon as Nasir dons it he wishes never to wear anything else.

Agron finishes with the rest of his clothing and turns, eyebrows lifting as he sees Nasir. "I believe this to be mine," he says casually, reaching out to pluck at the rough fabric.

"It is," Nasir replies agreeably, tilting his head up with a smile. "So if you would have it back, take it from me upon your return."

Agron slides his hands over Nasir's chest and curls his hands in the front of the cloak, using it to pull Nasir closer. "I may decide I like the sight of you in my clothing too much to reclaim it."

Nasir leans forward to slide his lips along the line of Agron's throat and then bites down, making his breath catch. Agron's hands move around to his back, pulling Nasir's body against his.

"If that means you will hasten back to my side to see it again, that will serve purpose just as well," Nasir whispers against Agron's skin.

Agron lets out a low growl and twines his hand in Nasir's hair, pulling his head back for a rough kiss. Nasir opens his mouth under Agron's and curls his hand around the back of Agron's neck, drawing him in and keeping him close.

When the kiss breaks, Nasir frames Agron's face with both hands, feeling Agron do the same to him. For a moment they simply stand and breathe together, their foreheads touching. The moment is tender, but if Agron expects tender words of farewell he is mistaken.

"Come back to me," Nasir tells him, voice low and fierce. "Or I will seek you out in the afterlife and have answer as to why you left before I was finished with you."

[And then theoretically there would have been more stuff taking them through to Balance and the first time they engage in more than kissing and possibly some groping, and it probably would have ended after that.]


End file.
